Page 11 of The History in Us

“Meet Atticus John, officially and irritably. He’s been a bit cranky lately.” Levi jiggled the baby, who wasn’t appearing to settle.

“Atticus John?” I giggled. “Such a formal name for a sweet baby.” Without thought, I reached forward and rubbed over AJ’s fuzz-covered head. I was curious about the hearing aids but didn’t ask.

“Atticus is the lawyer-father in To Kill a Mockingbird. He only wants justice and for what’s right to be done in the world. He’s my hero.” I nodded, surprised at the literary reference, and at the hero worship of someone judicially intellectual versus military intelligence.

“May I?” I dropped my bag on the floor just inside the door and reached out to hold AJ. Briefly too close to one another, the back of Levi’s hand brushed my breast as he passed the baby to me.

“Shit,” he muttered. My nipples instantly tightened. He turned away again, and his arms moved in a manner confirming he was trying to finish buttoning his shirt and straighten his tie. The first thing that caught my eye was a series of black and white images of AJ that hung over the couch. His feet. His hands. His eyes. The top of his head over what definitely appeared to be a female shoulder.

Spinning away, I swayed with a fussy baby who slowly quieted at my mumbles. I found that when I told my little sister or brother a story as a baby, they would settle, even when they had no idea what I was saying. I began to slowly pace the room, walking away from Levi. Turning my back on him, my hips rocked as I sashayed with AJ until I was facing the large picture window.

Still bright outside in the early evening hours of fall, the street below was lined on each side with parked cars. The trees stood tall but sporadic between properties mere feet from one another on narrow strips of land. This wasn’t small town charm. This was big city cluster.

“Once upon a time…” I began and started to tell the story of Peter Pan. Magical, mythical, and completely my own retelling, the soothing tone worked to calm AJ. I hadn’t gotten too far into the tale when Levi’s voice spoke softly near my ear.

“You’re really good at this.” My skin tingled and I shivered. Looking over my shoulder, I found Levi peering down at his child. He was even closer than I thought. Standing so close, I could smell him—clean with a touch of musk. My mouth dried at the scruffy jaw mere inches from my lips. I could have kissed him if I were as bold as I once had been. If he wasn’t married. I shook my head and looked away.

“I’m not certain he can hear you,” he muttered, his breath warm against my neck. “But he has quieted with your voice, so maybe.” A pinched expression graced his face as he stared at his child briefly before stepping back. He reached out his hands, and I returned AJ to his father. “I’ll remove his hearing aids. Then you won’t have to mess with it later,” he offered, sadness filling his eyes. I watched him walk away from me, wondering about the new Levi.

If he ever became that hero I wanted as a teenager, it was lost to me. Our kisses had been a lifetime ago for both him and me. He had definitely lived—war, marriage, a child—while I kept wallowing in the shallow end of life, uncertain how deep I could swim, and fearing I would never arrive where I intended to go. My future was like a slow, rolling wave, and I seemed to be paddling against the current. But I learned the only person who could save me was myself. The only person who could fulfill my dreams was me, and yet I felt I deserved a hero to rescue me before I drowned. Or at least that hero figure as a life preserver of sorts, keeping me afloat, and supporting the journey.  Heroes only existed in fairy tales, I cursed my imagination. Life was not a fantasy.